Trade Secrets
by auramender
Summary: Politics in the Glade are crude, impulsive and often corrupt. The latest Greenie struggles to accept his assigned station.
1. Chapter 1

The world began in darkness. The song of metal grinding against metal wailed into the oppressive shadows and reverberated in the vertical shaft, giving it shape. Shuddering jolts rocked the ascending box on its journey, giving it substance.

A young man knelt peacefully in the caccophany and contemplated the purpose of this reality. He had seemingly attained prescience here in this moment. Casting his mind in all directions he found no memories. An abundance of knowledge lay strewn around the mental landscape but no identity. There was a world beyond this lightless tower and the little box carrying him up through it. In some other part of him fear swelled vividly.

When his eyes didn't adjust to the darkness the man reached into the space around him. Nimble fingers traced the shapes of boxes and other containers. He discovered nothing to stem the tide of terror rising in the distance within him. Time passed strangely as he built a mental map of his surroundings. When he was done running his hands over everything and committing their dimensions to memory he felt that a long time had passed. Too much time to have found his way around such a confined space.

The young man resumed his place on the floor of his box and cast around in his thoughts once again. A name shook loose but it was without context and, therefor, without purpose. His distant fear had risen like a tidal wave and now rushed toward him. He could think of no action to take and so he simply waited for the panic to crash upon him. He felt himself rock at the force as it washed through him and flowed out into the darkness. The aftermath was peaceful but no more enlightening.

The box hitched to a stop and the blackness stilled somehow. Time passed in heartbeats. A clang ruined the silence in its infancy. The squeal of hinges preceded an explosion of daylight from above which struck the man's face. He grimaced into the dazzling illumination and stood. Now that he had been blinded by both darkness and light he wondered if his eyes were worth having at all.

Chattering silhouettes shimmered against a blazing backdrop. The voices identified the speakers as teen boys even before the stench wafted down into the box. A clearer voice rang above the rest, 'grab the rope, Greenie.'

Blinking into the blurring shapes, he searched for the rope in question and wondered if the speaker even meant to address him.

The sunlight's sting softened enough for him to spot the looped rope which had been lowered into the box for him to grab hold of. In a flurry of insistent hands he was hoisted into a crowd of boys who continued to mutter and occasionally prod him.

A tall, broad shouldered teen with pale skin and dark hair set heavy hands upon the newcomer's shoulders.

'Welcome to the glade,' he said with a smile more dazzling than the relentless sun. 'I'm Nick. I'm in charge here.'

'What's the glade?'

The older boy chuckled and stepped back to wave a hand around in a vague gesture. He said simply, 'home sweet home, Greenie.'

The vast space stretched out in all directions. A wooded area was visible in one direction and buildings in another as well as fields and other apparently purpose-built areas. Around the edge of it all stood massive walls which quickly dwarfed what had initially felt like miles of free space.

'Are those walls to keep things in or out?' He asked evenly, already dreading the answer.

The smile fell from Nick's face as he replied, 'both. Now, no more questions. In time you'll learn everything you need to know.'

The new arrival in the glade felt his jaw fall open. 'In time?' he said softly. 'Look. I can't remember anything. I mean anything at all.'

'That's normal.' That mouth wore no trace of the dazzling smile from moments ago and was set in a humourless line. 'Just give it time.'

With a shake of the head he couldn't help but retort, 'you said "need to know." Well, who decides that?'

With unnatural speed Nick had gripped the smaller boy's shirt and swung him to one side, pinning him to a nearby tree. 'I said no more questions, Slinthead!' he snarled.

This only sparked the question of when 'Greenie' had become 'Slinthead' but it seemed like poor judgement to ask. Instead he looked at the strong hands holding him in place.

'So that's why you're in charge,' he commented in a low voice.

In the space of a single heartbeat Nick's face flickered all kinds of conflicting and mutually-exlcusive emotions before falling still and expressionless.

'That's right, Greenie. You got anything more to say?'

A few tense moments passed and courage was gathered up somewhere in the midst of a storm that threatened to tear it all down. Finally he was able to give a response.

'Show us all the price of asking questions.'

That same kaleidoscope of emotions danced over Nick's features and this time took longer to resolve. The newcomer knew that a beating from this boy could be serious. He only hoped that that wasn't the message he wanted to send to the others. Silence raged for another few moments before Nick roughly thrust with both hands and stepped back.

'Put him in the slammer,' he said. There was a broadly recognised notion that this was a compromise.

Faces and scenery whirled past him as he was whisked into a small and unfurnished concrete room with a sturdy door. The boys who had brought him here looked in at him through a small, barred window.

Just like that he was in jail. He blinked stupidly and replayed the last few minutes in his mind.

'That was stupid,' said an accented voice from beyond the window.

'If that guy is allowed to be in charge then I'll have to be stupid to fit in,'

'What do you mean?' Blonde hair came into view as the boy peered in at him. The others who had come appeared to have left.

'Well,' he said, trying to filter the irritation out of his voice, 'I've come here with no memory or identity. I don't know where I am or who I am or why I'm here.' He stepped to the window to look the blonde boy in the eye. 'So I ask questions. Does that sound unreasonable?' There was an effort to not sound confrontational.

'He did say no more questions...' This was said almost too soft to hear. The boy was no longer looking in through the window.

'Then,' he continued, ignoring the last comment, 'he attacks me. Pins me to a tree and yells in my face.'

There's no reply this time.

'So, to recap,' he begins counting off points on his fingers. 'Amnesia. Questions. Violence.'

The blonde head swivels as Nick comes into view. He must have been hiding out of sight. Sneaky bastard.

'Questions can be dangerous.' Nick's voice was commanding and authorotative. He sounded like a different person than the guy who had condemned the newcomer to the Slammer.

'You assaulted me,' he replied sternly. 'Who's dangerous?'

Nick's eyes narrowed. 'What's your name?'

He remembered the name that had come to him in the box and knew it was his own. It was the only information he had which was his. He considered giving a false name and contemplated 'Isaac' or 'Edison.' He discarded these on the grounds that he wanted to be clear that he was keeping his name for himself. The only secret in this place that belonged to him.

'Green,' he answered carefully.

Some moments passed.

'You'll be in there with no food until you see reason.'

'You're withholding food?' he felt his eyebrows shoot skyward like they were trying to leave his face and then the atmosphere.

'The food is ours.' Nick's voice swelled in volume and the stability left it as quickly as it had come. 'You're not entitled to it until you're one of us.'

Only the briefest consideration afforded Green his retort. 'I am one of you,' he said. 'I'm caught up in your crude judicial system. That could only apply to me if I'm a citizen. You've already made me one of you.' He let a few seconds slip by before raising his palms and adding, 'entirely against my will.'

Nick's face became iron. 'Fine,' he said in a deadly tone. 'Come sundown you leave the Glade.'

The blonde boy gasped.

Green didn't flinch. 'Fine by me.'

Turning to leave, Nick said, 'come with me, Newt,' and marched off without looking back.

Newt stood looking stricken.

'Better do as you're told,' said Green. 'You might get exiled with me.'

Newt looked sharply in the direction Nick had gone and Green began to wonder what mess he had talked his way into.

'You don't know what that means,' Newt said with terror evident on his face.

'Should I have asked him?' Green couldn't keep the mocking tone from his voice.

All of this over some questions.

'What is your problem?!' Anger had settled over Newt. He stood taller.

'Think about it,' Green said. He tried to spin his brain into high-gear and structure these still-forming thoughts. 'Who's at the top of the ladder around here? Who has all of the knowledge? Nick and Nick, right?' He intended to leave time for Newt to respond but found himself talking right through. 'Here on the bottom rung the Greenie isn't allowed to know anything. Questions are met with hostility and aggression.'

'What's your point?' Newt had settled into a more neutral posture and appeared to be listening. That was all the encouragement that was required.

'When knowledge is power secrets are currency.' Green forced himself to pause here and gather his wits. 'Nick has created an aristocracy to rule over the underclass. Information is controlled to keep the knowledge-poor in their place.'

Green was acutely aware of how big those claims were and how little experience stood behind it. The steady expression on Newt's face told Green that he had struck a chord. He decided to quit while he was ahead.

Too many moments paraded between the two young men and discomfort swelled in the silence. Without farewell Newt ducked out of sight and melted into the quietness leaving Green to his ill-fitting solitude.


	2. Chapter 2

A blank memory made it difficult for Green to let his mind wander. He imagined himself as an artist poised before an empty canvas. The stark white abyss stared him down and revealed within him a terrifying void which threatened to turn inside-out and eject him from reality. The unstable chair beneath him felt more substantial than his own beating heart. He hummed an improvised melody to drown out the screaming vacuum.

Green recalled the dark box which had brought him to the Glade and wished to return to it. That crushing blackness had mercifully spared him the harshness of a world so undeniably real that it rebuked him and mocked his faux-existence.

He swept his gaze around his bare prison and felt the walls declare him a fraud. Shame burst into him and he silently apologized for the crime of feigning substance.

He knew that he was going mad.

The dwindling daylight dulled the world and afforded Green a meagre measure of peace for his thrashing mind. He was in the process of composing himself when he heard Nick's voice herald his return. Green stood from the unsteady chair and straightened himself in preparation for the approaching uncertainty.

He had intended to meet Nick's eyes through the bars in a show of defiance but that pale face never appeared. Instead the door swung open without ceremony. The space beyond somehow rushed away and dared him to follow. Green swayed in place and felt himself drawn back to the uncomfortable chair. He strained to resist the compulsion to sit.

The doorway remained silent. Nick and whomever he had been speaking to were out of sight. They must have been waiting for him to emerge. The uncertainty of what to expect somehow settled his nerves. He couldn't remember ever being certain. With a steady pace Green waded into the unknown.

Nick stood to his left when he crossed the threshold and an unfamiliar dark skinned boy was on his other side. Both were tall and strong. Green felt his posture soften and he made an effort to lift his shoulders in a show of strength. He managed only an imperceptible shrug of resignation. The sound of footfalls drew everyone's attention and Nick stepped toward the newcomer as he breached from the shadows.

'Gally,' said Nick. 'Did you bring it?'

'I did,' Gally replied. He produced a pole with a looped rope at one end and held it gingerly. 'Are we doing this, Alby?' He looked intently at Green.

Alby didn't answer. He looked to Nick instead. There was an accusation in his eyes. 'Are we, Nick?'

That same smile that Nick had worn when Green first arrived in his box blossomed effortlessly on his face. 'The greenie said it himself,' said Nick. 'He doesn't want to be one of us. We can't make him one of us against his will.' that smile twisted. 'Isn't that right?'

Green recovered his defiance and met Nick's eyes as he had intended to do earlier. The twist in that smile contorted further. Green felt certain that people don't smile like that.

'Did you explain the maze? The grievers?' Alby stood very still as he spoke. 'A greenie can't make a call like that.'

Gally nodded but appeared to shrink as he did. Nick didn't seem to notice at all.

'The sun is setting,' said Nick. That smile had disappeared and left another face in its wake. Green noticed that everyone spoke to Nick's chest and avoided his face. Even Alby who was as tall as Nick wouldn't meet his eye. Nick continued, 'It's time.'

The commanding boy set off with purpose and swagger. He moved like he spoke: a chilling threat in a casual tone. The others obeyed the implied order and followed, Alby taking Green by the arm. His grip was softer than his strained muscles would suggest. Whatever Alby was wrestling with was less tangible than the prisoner resignedly marching at his side. Gally was off to one side and Green couldn't see him without turning which he hadn't the will for.

As the troop approached the wall Green felt overcome by the scale of it. If there were a ladder to the top he was sure he would grow exhausted and fall to the ground before reaching halfway. He imagined the air to be too thin to sustain him atop the colossal barrier. The doorway was no less breathtaking: A gargantuan fissure splitting the wall from the ground up. Looking to the heavens dizzied him and he dropped his gaze to the base of the doorway. There he discovered another boy emerging from beyond the wall.

Nick stayed his course but Alby and Gally faltered. Alby's rigid muscles twitched. Nick hadn't looked back and didn't notice the others falling behind as he engaged the latest newcomer. They were too far ahead for Green to hear what was being said. Gally had moved closer to Alby and meaning passed between the two.

Upon drawing nearer to the conversing boys Green observed harsh tones and sharp gestures. When they were close enough to hear the exchange it became evident that the two were arguing.

'I'm the leader of the Glade,' said Nick. 'This is my call to make, Minho.'

'Of the Glade, sure,' was the retort. 'The Maze is mine.' He cocked his head to look past Nick. 'Alby! That kid dangerous?' he called.

In Green's peripheral vision Alby shook his head .

'Let him go.' Minho kept his gaze on the trio and didn't look back to Nick. Alby stepped away from Green as the tension flowed out him.

Green was looking fixedly at Nick who had his back to him. A wave of visible fury swept over him like a serpent and coiled threateningly around his shoulders. Without warning he struck Minho in the jaw. His arm was a viper. This man was snakes.

Minho rocked at the punch but didn't step back. He looked stonily into Nick's eyes. After a moment he flatly inquired, 'Feel better?'

Alby and Gally had frozen in place. There was no indication as to whether or not this was normal. Green couldn't comprehend how anyone could live like this.

'If you love the Maze so damn much maybe you should stay there,' Nick hissed. He turned away from Minho in a serpentine motion and smoothly stalked away.

Green felt Alby's hand against his lower back and he was gently ushered forward. The three boys gathered around Minho who was breathing deeply and unevenly. He trembled all over. Whether with fear or fury Green couldn't tell.

'Thank you,' Green said. He found that Minho's tremor was contagious and had infected his own voice. 'Are you alright?' he asked, surprised at the strength of his compassion toward this stranger. A moment's reflection allowed him to recognise that his life may well have been saved only moments ago. This trembling boy was a hero.

With eyes far more steady than the rest of him Minho looked at Green, 'I face worse out there. Try to stay out of trouble for a while.' When Green nodded Minho said, 'Good that,' and turned to Alby. 'I need to go to the map room. Keep the greenie clear of Nick.' He faced away from the group but before he moved he added one last command. 'Whatever that thing is Gally, destroy it.'

Gally gripped the shaft of his contraption resentfully. 'Absolutely.' He grimaced and set off without hesitation in the opposite direction from Minho, leaving Green in Alby's charge.

'We've no more light today,' Alby said with a glace at the darkening sky. 'Your orientation will have to wait until the morning. Newt has the Glade's people-skills. I'll ask him to give you the rundown.' He nodded in affirmation of his own decision. 'I'll show you where you'll be sleeping. C'mon.'

The two turned their backs on the wall and and were halted by a cacophony of colossal clockwork. Massive gears could be heard grinding in the distance. When Green turned back to face the wall he almost yelled out in surprise. Instead he only gasped in astonishment as the fissure serving as the wall's doorway closed itself like a rapidly healing wound. 'What...' Green couldn't think as his awestruck mind tangled itself up in disbelief. 'How is that-?'

Alby shook his head. 'Leave it for now. There's a lot to cover and we're out of time for today. Follow me.'

Green hesitated and then decided to comply. He was desperately tired after this day. The only day in his memory might as well have been his whole life so far. Had he ever known sleep? Even if he were given answers he couldn't possibly hope to grasp their meaning. He could wait until morning.

Alby led him to a set of buildings that looked more like stables. There were hammocks and sleeping mats laid out everywhere. Some were under the flimsy roofs and others in view of the sky which had come alive with starlight.

'If you can be bothered to tie up a hammock then find a spot and feel free,' Alby instructed. 'Otherwise just grab a bedroll and get some shuteye.'

Green opted for a simple mat and blanket and wandered to find an isolated spot away from everyone. He couldn't be sure if those boys were mostly Nicks or Minhos. Distance felt well advised. His fears of being slaughtered in his sleep were proven unfounded when he discovered that he couldn't sleep. However heavily the waves of exhaustion crashed around him he simply didn't feel safe enough to be swept away. His anxiety anchored him in the waking world.

The sound of a delicate, shuffling gait cut through him and he sprang to his feet.

'Just me,' said a soft voice. After a moment he added, 'It's Newt.' Even in the dim illumination of a starry sky that blond hair shimmered like a beacon. 'Can I sleep here? I'm supposed to give you the tour in the morning so it makes sense to stay close.' Newt's accent made him seem somehow apart from the rest of the Glade's occupants.

'Sure,' Green permitted as Newt dumped his blanket to one side and sprawled out on the grass.

'You must be lucky,' said Newt as though he were musing absently. 'Today could've gone very differently.'

'It was Minho,' Green replied. He could feel the tiredness biting at his eyes and allowed his lids to cover them. 'I get the feeling he saved my life.'

Newt yawned and then, 'Good that.'

Silence drifted by and Green found that sleep seemed to have followed Newt and settled upon him. Before he slipped into slumber he heard Newt offer some wisdom. 'If you have any questions Nick isn't the person to ask.'

Green's eyes were closed but he felt that he was somehow seeing Newt more clearly than before. His apparent timidity was only caution to temper courage. Green understood the unspoken advice; There were safe and unsafe people in the Glade. Until Green could determine the two factions he would need to accept the presence of gaps in his knowledge and understanding. That wouldn't be an option for the long-term. He would go mad without answers. For now he could trust Newt and Minho. He would need to figure out who else was safe. That didn't seem so daunting a task. What worried him was the penalty for a misstep. It seemed to him that trusting wrong could very well cost him his life.

With this notion nestled in his thoughts he pitched into a night of fitful half-sleep.


End file.
